A Bar at the Edge of the Universe
by ThisIsTrueImmortality
Summary: Fresh from his ordeal on Satellite Five, Jack Harkness knows that what he needs is a good, strong drink. At a speakeasy at the outer reaches of space, he stumbles upon a man who intrigues him enough to forgo his earlier plans of drinking alone. A wibbly wobbly oneshot. *minor spoilers* for The Parting of the Ways and a character from Series Five. Also: Jack is Jack, but no slash.


**Author's Note: A quick, out-of-the-blue oneshot featuring Jack Harkness post-Parting of the Ways. So, if you have not watched Doctor Who 2005's Series One, you might have a spoiler ahead of you in this story! Also, there is an appearance of a Series Five character (hint: his name starts with D and ends with octor), so if you want to keep his identity a mystery, don't spoil it for yourself!**

**A note on Jack's behavior: Jack is Jack, and I can do very little to change his character except keep him as chaste as possible. I never do smut and I hardly ever do PDA-this story is as close to slash as I will ever get. And, even then, this is a one-sided romance and a two-sided friendship. Only one party is turning this encounter into anything remotely sexual. **

**The music for this oneshot is 'I'm Getting Sentimental Over You' performed by Tommy Dorsey watch?v=cKQc-cbAvdQ**

**Enjoy!**

The bar was styled after the 1920's speakeasies on Earth. Despite the fact that it was trillions of miles and multiple millenia from the original, it was a very good imitation. In order to enter the bar, a patron had to know the location of the secret entrance. If the patron was lucky, he or she could sneak into the lower level of the respectable space travelers' lounge, trip the secret lever, and climb up the rickety staircase into the bar's main seating area without being noticed. The interior of the bar was very convincing, too: dim lighting gave off a furtive glow that illuminated the modest seats, the dark wood counter, and the hundreds of bottles behind it. This establishment prided itself on having every alcoholic beverage known to the outer reaches of space, including the kinds only requested by two or three species. Even the music was authentic, with jazz and big band throwbacks trickling quietly down the stairs to entice new patrons.

Jack Harkness had no trouble getting into the bar. He had been here a few times before, twice as a Time Agent and once as a con man. Now, as a traveler bereft of a destination, he had programmed this insignificant little dive into his vortex manipulator. He'd been in shock after he had realized that he was not, in fact, dead. After his ridiculously heroic last stand against the Daleks on Satellite Five, he had expected oblivion. Instead, he'd been jolted back into life, bewildered, disturbed, and alone. It was as though every particle of his body had been turned loose and shaken and then reassembled with the force of sledgehammer. For some reason, he'd been struck with the need for a very strong alcoholic drink.

Ultimately, he knew where he wanted to go. He had to return to the only century where he had any hope of finding the people he'd lost on the space station. Currently, in The Fourth Great and Bountiful Empire, he knew no one and had nothing for which to live. He'd been lucky the bar itself even existed in this time period. He had to go back to the Earth where he might find Rose Tyler, or-

He shook off the thought and squared his shoulders. What was in the past was just that: in the past. He'd come to this bar for a drink, and that's what he intended to get. He would order an old-fashioned drink, take an hour or two to get pleasantly buzzed, maybe chat up a friendly alien, and find the courage to make a more substantial jump through the time vortex.

With the course of his night determined, Jack surveyed the other patrons in the bar, noting the rather crowded counter. There were a good number of beings who lacked any humanoid features, incuding the well-dressed staff. Jack was feeling rather lonely, having discovered that he was stuck in a century without his two dearest friends. He naturally gravitated toward one of the few remotely human customers at the far end of the bar.

The man looked completely human to Jack's eyes, but he knew that appearances could be deceiving. He was slightly taller than average; his legs looked cramped underneath the bar, wedged against his stool. He had unremarkable features, except for the fact that, put together, his features made a very distinct face. He had muted brown hair that was a bit long for Jack's taste. But the most interesting things about this man were his eyes. Even from his vantage point, Jack could see they were far older than the man's youthful body. When Jack sat down beside him, those eldritch green eyes seemed to measure him up and analyze him thoroughly. Then they thoroughly dimissed him as they were directed to the nearly empty drink in his hand.

"Looks like a Pulstar Fusion," Jack offered, nodding to the drink.

The man didn't look up, but he nodded and said, "Yes, it is," in a distant tone of voice.

"Can I buy you another?" The words fell out of Jack's mouth before he'd registered his intent to ask. He fought not to look surprised at himself and leaned his elbow on the countertop, his chin in his hand.

Those strange green eyes were leveled on Jack once again. He tried not to let his sudden interest show. The man's mouth quirked up at one end, and Jack once again forced himself not to react. He felt a little flustered at the way this man had commanded all of his attention. Even as lost as he felt in this time and place, this stranger had become fascinating to him.

"What do you expect from me if I say yes?" The man asked, bringing Jack's mind back to the situation.

"Nothing, really," Jack answered, honestly. "I just find you...I don't know. You're a striking man."

The man gave a careless laugh. "I know I look young and sprightly, but I've been around the universe a time or two, mate," the man said, still with a little smirk on his face. "And I'm telling you now: we're not going to go there."

"I never said we had to," Jack said, leaning closer, watching the man's reaction. "To tell you the truth, I'm just here for a drink. That's all I came here for."

"No," the man said, sliding his own glass away from him, "you came here to sort it out, whatever _it_ is. Although I've a pretty good guess, judging from the state of your vortex manipulator. Nice model, by the way. Very vintage chic. They don't make them like that, anymore."

Jack found himself smiling in admiration. "You're a lot more savvy than you let on, aren't you," he said.

The man just shrugged. He turned away from Jack again. Feeling a little more bold, Jack tapped the bar and ordered two drinks from the multi-armed bartender, one of them a Fusion. The next few minutes passed in silence on both of their parts. When the drinks had been set before him, Jack slid the Fusion over to his new acquaintance.

"I never told you 'yes'," the man pointed out.

Jack took a gulp from his Asteroid Smasher and answered, "You seem like the kind of guy who would make his 'no' loud and clear." He held his glass out invitingly. "A toast?"

"To what?" The man asked, his voice carrying a dark hint Jack had not heard before.

"Well..." Jack thought a moment, then said, "We're both alive, aren't we?"

"Oh, yes," the man answered somewhat bitterly, "alive and well. Probaby better than well." He touched his own glass to Jack's. "Here's to being alive and at a bar on the edge of the universe, wondering where all the years have gone and why I'm wasting another one hanging around."

"Yeah, cheers," Jack said sarcastically, and they both took a long drink from their glasses. "You sure are a cheerful barmate," he said. "Remind me to take you to my next R and R."

"We're practically strangers," the man pointed out, eyes sparking just slightly with wry amusement. Jack found himself entranced.

"And, yet, we've been talking for the last ten minutes. Come on, you've got to admit that we hit it off."

"We're both lonely and we like to gab." The man stopped talking long enough to drain half of his Fusion in one swig. He ran a hand through his hair. "I hadn't planned on any social interaction, right now," he said in frustration. "I didn't want to talk. I talk too much, all the time, and it only gets me into trouble. But, it gets me out of trouble, too. Sometimes, that's half the problem."

"I know a guy like that," Jack commented off-handedly, watching the way the dim amber lights caught on the man's hair and face. On further reflection, the man was attractive, but in his own way. Jack never was picky, but on this day, when he had felt his world dissolve and re-appear, he found a deep satisfaction in finding another humanoid on 'the edge of the universe.' And, not only had he found a humanoid, he had found one with pleasing looks and a sharp mind. This man couldn't replace the two companions he had lost on Satellite Five, but he could temporarily relieve the ache they had left.

"You look like you want to cash in on that drink you gave me," the man said, looking directly into Jack's eyes, perhaps in rebuke for his stare.

Jack broke the contact. He could see lifetimes in that gaze. He decided that he didn't want to think about the true nature of his drinking companion. He didn't care, at this moment, who this man was. He just needed to forget his own lifetime, for a while.

The music in the bar transformed into a familiar tune, and something in him moved. Jack set down his drink. He spun on his stool to face his new acquaintance. "Dance with me?"

The man gave a startled laugh that sounded as though it had been dragged from somewhere deep within him. Jack forcefully reminded himself that he didn't want to know why this man was so afraid to laugh.

"Dance with me," he repeated, and didn't stop his eyes from fixing onto the green ones blinking at him in perplexity.

"I don't know," the man said doubtfully, still nursing his Fusion.

"Just a dance, I promise." For once, Jack meant it.

The man shook his head. "It will never be just a dance to you. You don't work like that."

"Oh?"

"You're human," the man said simply, with another small smile. "And a rather..._fluid_ dancer, at that."

Jack supposed that statement answered his curiosity about the man's species. "You sound like you know me," he said, keeping his tone humorous. He wasn't offended by such a true statement.

"Oh, don't I?" The man retorted, rolling his eyes.

Jack held out his hand to the man, giving him a careful smile in return. "Please, I just want one dance. Help me forget the reason I'm here."

The man stared at his hand for a moment, and it seemed as if he weighed a thousand possibilities in that one instant, from one breath to the next. Then, with a tilt of his chin, he assented. He stood and shrugged out of his brown tweed coat, leaving it draped on his bar stool. "I'm not risking my coat on the dance floor of a mock-prohibition bar full of multi-limbed lifeforms," he said, and straightened the bowtie around his neck. Jack didn't question the man's strange attire because it went so well with the bar's theme, but he did appreciate the man's crisp white shirt and the braces that kept it tucked neatly into his trousers.  
"You haven't had enough to drink, if you can still think about your coat at a time like this," Jack said, intentionally flirting to gauge his new dance partner's reaction.

As the man took Jack's hand, he said, "I'll never have enough to drink, as far as you're concerned."

Jack pulled him closer and gave him a grin. "I think that's a challenge, tiger."

The man put out a hand to stop them from getting any nearer to one another. "I'm not in the mood," he said firmly. "A dance, and that's it. You promised."

"I promise," Jack agreed again, then finally managed to guide his partner to the dance floor. "But, I'm going to make it a good one," he said, leaning close.

"Oh, you think you're so impressive," the man answered, as the music stirred his feet to work in a mirror of Jack's determined strides.

"I am so impressive," Jack said flippantly.

The man's eyes lit up from within, and a genuine grin flitted across his face. "Let's see if you've got the moves," he said, as Jack increased the intensity of their dance.

They moved across the floor in economic squares, barely touching at times and nearly plastered against one another at others. Those occasions did not last for very long. The man allowed Jack to lead, but he separated their bodies when the contact stretched out too long.

"I'm about as talented as a Quimordian slug when it comes to dancing," the man admitted, body twisting so he wouldn't smash Jack's foot with a misplaced step.

"You're doing fine," Jack said. He was momentarily overwhelmed by the feel of the man's hair against his face as they made another turn. His nose was filled with a smell that seemed so familiar. The man gently moved himself further away from Jack's body, but he kept his hands firmly ensconced in Jack's grip. "Tease," Jack said, without any resentment.

"No," the man said, "just a friend. A friend who dances, but doesn't _dance_, if you get my drift."

The man's legs tangled with Jack's as they sought to add a new move to their dance. Jack couldn't resist the urge to lean forward, bending his partner ever so slightly over his arm. "Change your mind?" he said softly.

The man went willingly enough, but Jack got the distinct feeling that his romantic overtures were being humored by a much more intelligent being. He felt rather like a teenager making a move on a university student. "I can't," his partner said, and shot him an exasperated look that seemed too fond for a casual acqaintance. Momentarily at a loss, Jack pulled the man back up to a full standing position and forced him to take another turn with him across the floor. "Don't take it personally," the man said, as they narrowly avoided a table full of green-skinned reptilians. "If it makes you feel better, I'd say that, objectively, you're very attractive for a human. But of course, you know that, otherwise you wouldn't have tried to buy a total, male stranger a drink."

"If it makes you feel better," Jack said, "I don't meet too many people who can reject me for this long."

"I've had a lot of practice," the man answered, and grabbed Jack's hand before it could stray from his waist. "That region is off limits," he said coolly, "as you very well know. Don't do it again."

Jack tossed him a winning smile. "Sorry. That Smasher must be getting to me. Those things go straight to my head. I should know better than to order one."

"You should know better about a lot of things," the man said. "You're an experienced temporal-spatial traveler, although your vortex manipulator is about as close to time-traveling as a child's finger-paint is to a Botticelli." He started suddenly as Jack guided their hands to rest against Jack's chest. "What are you doing?"

"Do I have a heartbeat?" Jack asked. He had barely even heard his companion's ramble about his vortex manipulator. He had suddenly felt a sense of panic descend on him, not pressing enough to interrupt their dance, but enough to ripple the waters of his alcohol-induced calm. He needed a reassurance from someone else that his life, his entire existence, wasn't some strange out-of-body experience. He needed to know he wasn't lying on the floor of Satellite Five, slowly dying from a Dalek laser wound. This reassurance might even be important enough to interrupt the conquest of an intriguing stranger on a remote planet.

Something of his feelings must have shown on his face, because his dancing partner put his hands more firmly against his chest. "You have a heart," the man said decisively, "and it's probably the strongest beat I've ever felt. It's not going anywhere, for a long time. Don't worry." Jack felt himself turn, the man guiding him in their dance for the first time. "You'll figure out what's happened to you," his partner said, "but it's going to take time. But, for now, focus on what needs to be done in the near future."

"I can't even remember how to properly woo a reluctant stranger," Jack said, feeling much better with the man's eldritch green eyes fixed on his face. "I think sorting out my future is a little beyond me, at the moment."

"Well," the man smiled a genuine smile, "I am a stubborn blighter, on my best days."

"Oh, yeah? What about your worst?"

"On my worst..."

The music reached its final notes, and the man did not resist as Jack pulled him close and dipped him back once more. He even graced Jack with the illusion that he needed Jack's shoulder to steady himself as they remained there for a moment, frozen in their final dance move. Jack wondered at the calm, trusting way the man looked into his face, even after Jack's failed attempts at seduction. "On my worst," the man said softly, "whole planets fall before I change my mind." Jack frowned down at him, a dim suspicion at the back of his mind.

The man rose smoothly from the dip as Jack pulled him up. "Okay," Jack said, with a laugh, "even I'm not that conceited, man."

His dancing partner smiled back, then turned and went to retrieve his coat from the barstool. Jack followed him without thought. "Now," the man said, when he noticed Jack behind him, "one dance, you said!"

"Yeah," Jack said, staring hard at the man's face. He heard the man's words again in his mind: 'Whole planets fall before I change my mind.' His brain began to connect the points along the evening's conversation, lighting up an idea like a lightbulb.

"Well," the man shrugged into his tweed and tossed Jack a careless look, "you're a man of your word, aren't you, Jack Harkness?" As Jack took in a sharp breath, he amended, "Sorry, _Captain_ Jack Harkness. You swore you were never de-frocked."

"Doctor," Jack said, in wonder and disbelief. "But, how-your face-"

And, before Jack could reach out and take hold of a sleeve or a shirttail or a hand, the man with The Doctor's eyes slipped into the crowd that had just flooded the bar. In desperation, Jack stormed through the crowd, pushing past tentacles and spikes without a thought. For one second, his eyes tracked a flash of brown hair amidst the alien heads, but then it vanished. Cursing, he barrelled his way to the entrance of the bar. Not even an echo of a footstep provided Jack with any hope as he stood, flushed and confused, looking left and right.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jack angrily tucked his wallet into his back pocket, shoved his hands into his front pockets, and stalked away from the speakeasy. It occurred to him that he had left the bar with everything he had wanted from the trip, but nothing he really needed.

He had gotten himself a drink. He had found a drinking partner, one who had been easy on the eyes and mysterious. He had alcohol raging through his veins, bolstering his courage. He had the strength to make his second and more difficult time leap.

But, he had no bosom friends to accompany him. He had no definite direction.

And he had no Doctor.


End file.
